The Works of William Shakespeare

Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker! Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper and conspire against my youth? Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth And you an officer fit for the place.

There, take the paper: see it be return'd;

Or else return no more into my sight.

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Here is a coil with protestation! [Tears the letter.

Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than Go get you gone, and let the papers lie: hate.

Jul. Will ye be gone? Luc.

That you may ruminate.

[Exit. Jul And yet I would I had o'erlooked the letter:

It were a shame to call her back again
And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.
What a fool is she, that knows I am a maid,
And would not force the letter to my view!
Since maids, in modesty, say 'no' to that
Which they would have the profferer construe 'ay.'
Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse
And presently all humbled kiss the rod !
How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly I would have had her here!
How angerly I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforced my heart to smile!
My penance is to call Lucetta back
And ask remission for my folly past.
What ho! Lucetta!

That you might kill your stomach on your meat And not upon your maid.

Jul. What is't that you took up so gingerly? Luc. Nothing.

Jal. Why didst thou stoop, then?

Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall. Ful. And is that paper nothing?

L. Nothing concerning me.

Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Unless it have a false interpreter.

Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.

Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune. Give me a note: your ladyship can set.

Ful. As little by such toys as may be possible. Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' love.'

Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune. Jul. Heavy! belike it hath some burden then?

Luc. Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it.

100

You would be fingering them, to anger me. Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleased

To be so anger'd with another letter.

[Exit.

Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the

And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
But twice or thrice was' Proteus' written down.
Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away
Till I have found each letter in the letter,
Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear
Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock
And throw it thence into the raging sea!
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,
'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
To the sweet Julia:' that I'll tear away.
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names.
Thus will I fold them one upon another:
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what;
you

SCENE III. The same.

ANTONIO'S house.

Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO.

Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, what of him?

Pan.

He wonder'd that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home, While other men, of stender reputation,

Put forth their sons to seek preferment out:
Some to the wars, to try their fortune there;
Some to discover islands far away;
Some to the studious universities.
For any or for all these exercises

He said that Proteus your son was meet,
And did request me to importune you
To let him spend his time no more at home,
Which would be great impeachment to his age,
In having known no travel in his youth.

ΙΟ

Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that

Whereon this month I have been hammering.
I have consider'd well his loss of time
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being tried and tutor'd in the world:
Experience is by industry achieved
And perfected by the swift course of time.
Then tell me, whither were I best to send him?
Pan. I think your lordship is not ignorant
How his companion, youthful Valentine,
Attends the emperor in his royal court.

Ant. I know it well.

Pan. "Twere good, I think, your lordship Isent him thither:

There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, 30 Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen, And be in eye of every exercise

Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.

Ant. I like thy counsel; well hast thou ad

vised:

Pro. There is no news, my lord, but that he writes

How happily he lives, how well beloved
And daily graced by the emperor;

Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.
Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish?
Pro. As one relying on your lordship's will 61
And not depending on his friendly wish.

Ant. My willis something sorted with his wish.
Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed;
For what I will, I will, and there an end.
I am resolved that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentinus in the emperor's court:
What maintenance he from his friends receives,
Like exhibition thou shalt have from me.
To-morrow be in readiness to go:
Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.

Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided: Please you, deliberate a day or two.

Ant. Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after thee:

No more of stay! to-morrow thou must go.
Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ'd
To hasten on his expedition.

[Exeunt Ant, and Pan. Pro. Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning,

And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.
I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter,
Lest he should take exceptions to my love;
And with the vantage of mine own excuse
Hath he excepted most against my love.
O, how this spring of love resembleth

The uncertain glory of an April day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away!

Re-enter PANTHINO.

Pan. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you:
He is in haste; therefore, I pray you, go.
Pro. Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto,
And yet a thousand times it answers 'no.'
[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. Milan. The DUKE's palace.

Enter VALENTINE and SPEED.
Speed. Sir, your glove.

Val.
Not mine; my gloves are on.
Speed. Why, then, this may be yours, for this

is but one.

Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine:
Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!
Ah, Silvia, Silvia!

Speed. Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia !
Val. How now, sirrah?

Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.
Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her?
Speed. Your worship, sir; or else I mistook. 10
Val. Well, you'll still be too forward.
Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being

too slow.

Val. Go to, sir: tell me, do you know Madam Silvia?

Speed. She that your worship loves?

Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks: first.

you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms, like a malecontent; to relish a lovesong, like a robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence: to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing: to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I lock on you, I can hardly think you my master. Val. Are all these things perceived in me? Speed. They are all perceived without ye. l'al. Without me? they cannot.

Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain, for, without you were so simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you and shine through you like the water in an urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a physician to comment on your maLady.

Val But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?

Speed. She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper?

Tal. Hast thou observed that? even she, I

Speed. [Aside] O, give ye good even! here's million of manners.

Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand.

Speed. [Aside] He should give her interest, and she gives it him.

Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter Unto the secret nameless friend of yours; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in But for my duty to your ladyship.

Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly done.

Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off:

For being ignorant to whom it goes
I writ at random, very doubtfully.

Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?

Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much; And yet

Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel;

And yet I will not name it; and yet I care not; And yet take this again; and yet I thank you, Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.

Speed. [Aside] And yet you will; and yet another 'yet.'

Val. What means your ladyship? do you not

like it?

Sil.

another.

And when it's writ, for my sake read it over,

And if it please you, so; if not, why, so.
Val. If it please me, madam, what then?
Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your
labour:

And so, good morrow, servant. [Exit. 140
Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a
steeple!

My master sues to her, and she hath taught her suitor,

Val. What figure?

Speed. By a letter, I should say.

Val. Why, she hath not writ to me? Speed. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive 160 the jest?

Val. No, believe me.

Speed. No believing you, indeed, sir. But did you perceive her earnest?

Val. She gave me none, except an angry word.
Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter.
Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend.
Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and
there an end.

Val. I would it were no worse.
170
Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:
For often have you writ to her, and she, in
modesty,

Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;

Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover,

Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto

her lover.

All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.
Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner-time.

Val. I have dined.

Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals and would fain have O, be not like your mistress; be moved, [Exeunt.

meat.
be moved.

SCENE II. Verona. JULIA's house.

Enter PROTEUS and JULIA.

Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia.
Jul. I must, where is no remedy.
Pro.

When possibly I can, I will return.
Jul. If you turn not, you will return the

sooner.

Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.
[Giving a ring.
Pro. Why, then, we'll make exchange; here,
take you this.

Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy;
And when that hour o'erslips me in the day
Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,
The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
Torment me for my love's forgetfulness!
My father stays my coming: answer not;
The tide is now: nay, not thy tide of tears;
That tide will stay me longer than I should.
[Exit Julia.
Julia, farewell!
What, gone without a word?

Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;
For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
Enter PANTHINO.

Pan. Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for.
Pro. Go; I come, I come.

Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt,

The same. A street.

Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog.

Launce. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir I think Crab Proteus to the Imperial's court. my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam, having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it. This shoe is my father: no, this left shoe is my father: no, no, this left shoe is my mother: nay, that cannot be so neither: yes, it is so, it is so, it hath the worser sole. This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on't! there 'tis: now, sir, this staff is my sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid: I am the dog: no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog-Oh! the dog is me, and I am myNow come I to my father; self; ay, so, so. Father, your blessing: now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping: now should I kiss my Now come I to my father; well, he weeps on. mother: O, that she could speak now like a wood woman! Well, I kiss her; why, there 'tis; here's Now ! my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes. the dog all this while sheds not a tear nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears.

Enter PANTHINO.

Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard! thy master is shipped and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weepest thou, man? Away, ass! you'll lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.

Launce. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied. Pan. What's the unkindest tide?

Launce. Why, he that's tied here, Crab, my dog.

Pan. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood, and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage, and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master, and, in losing thy master, lose thy service, and, in losing thy service,-Why dost thou stop my mouth?

Launce. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.
Pan. Where should I lose my tongue?
Launce. In thy tale.

Pan.

In thy tail!

Val. I know him as myself; for from our infancy

We have conversed and spent our hours together:
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time

To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection,
Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name,
Made use and fair advantage of his days;

Speed. "Twere good you knocked him. [Exit. His years but young, but his experience old:

Sil Servant, you are sad.

Val Indeed, madam, I seem so.

Tha Seem you that you are not? Val. Haply I do.

Thu. So do counterfeits.

Val. So do you.

Thu. What seem I that I am not?
Val. Wise.

Th. What instance of the contrary?
Val. Your folly.

Tha. And how quote you my folly?
Val. I quote it in your jerkin.

Tha. My jerkin is a doublet.

Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. Thu. How?

ΙΟ

Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio! do you change colour?

Val Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chameleon.

Thu That hath more mind to feed on your Llood than live in your air.

Val. You have said, sir.

Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. 30 ial I know it well, sir; you always end ere Fou begin

Sil A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off.

Val Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant?

Val Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fre.

Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyhip's looks, and spends what he borrows kindly

your company.

Tha Sir, if you spend word for word with ne, I shall make your wit bankrupt.

Val. I know it well, sir; you have an excheser of words, and, I think, no other treasure to pe your followers, for it appears, by their bare Ereries, that they live by your bare words.

Sil No more, gentlemen, no more: here es my father.

His head unmellow'd, but his judgement ripe; 70
And, in a word, for far behind his worth
Comes all the praises that I now bestow,

He is complete in feature and in mind

With all good grace to grace a gentleman. Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good,

He is as worthy for an empress' love

As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates:

And here he means to spend his time awhile: 80
I think 'tis no unwelcome news to you.

Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he.

Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth.

Silvia, I speak to you, and you, sir Thurio;
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it:

I will send him hither to you presently. [Exit. Val. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship

Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.
Sil. Belike that now she hath enfranchised
them

Upon some other pawn for fealty.

Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.

Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind,

How could he see his way to seek out you?
Val. Why, lady, Love hath twenty pair of eyes.
Thu. They say that Love hath not an eye

at all.

If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him

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